The Restive Season
by Shellecah
Summary: Matt, Chester, Kitty and Doc reveal their frailties one Dodge summer.
1. Chapter 1

Kitty needed him like water pumped cold from the well these moist summer nights. She craved his vital warm presence—strong, rock-steady and a head higher than any man in Dodge. She wanted to hear Matt's sensible tones, feel his arm pressed against hers as she stood at the end of the bar.

Kitty hadn't seen the marshal since last night, and now the earliest morning hour had come with a cooling in the air. Chester's form next to hers at the bar was hot, spare and fidgety. Though he seemed to her nervier than usual, Kitty hoped he'd stay with her until Matt arrived or the Long Branch closed for the night.

Desiring Matt made her somewhat enlivened by Chester. She looked up at his ingenuous face as he watched the activity along the bar, his fingers wrapped around a full beer mug. He impressed her as tendersome and not who she needed as a woman. Kitty thought embracing Chester might lighten her spirits as much as two cups of coffee.

"Pardon me," said a baritone voice behind her. Kitty turned and looked into the young, radiantly handsome face of a stranger. "I was ordering a whiskey when I beheld you, and I'm quite overcome by your beauty," he said. Chester snorted laughter, and Kitty jabbed her elbow in his ribs.

"May I introduce myself?" the stranger said. "My name is Trevor Holland." He took Kitty's hand and touched it to his lips. "May I buy you a drink?" he asked.

"I'm Kitty Russell, and the first drink's on the house," she said. "We'll both have one."

"Do call me Trev," he said.

"I will if you call me Kitty.

Chester, why don't you go see if Matt needs anything," Kitty said.

"He's not here with you; he's makin' his rounds late," said Chester. "I can't rightly find 'im jest now."

"Well, go to the office and wait for him," Kitty ordered.

"I will. Mr. Dillon'll surely come here when he hears what I got to tell 'im," said Chester. He frowned at Holland and left.

Kitty felt an invigorating surge of defiance. _Let Matt find out,_ she thought. _Maybe then he'll give me more attention._

She sat at a table with Trev, who wanted to know all about her. His voice had a musical cadence with perfect diction, and his demeanor was open and faintly smiling. Though he was no profound conversationalist, Kitty enjoyed looking at him and hearing him talk. She studied him so she could rouse his image in her memory whenever she missed Matt. Holland had clean tan skin, large, expressive dark eyes, a long sharp nose with a rather prominent bridge, and shining black hair. He was tall and lean, though not close to the marshal's height, and wore a fine dove-gray suit. Kitty figured Trev to be a little shorter than Chester.

Holland's father was a landowner in England and the States. "The West is so full of life and death, darkness and hope, one can hardly bear it. I'd be a lucky fellow indeed were I to find love in this land," Trev said.

Kitty rested her chin on her hand and gazed into his earnest eyes. "You sound like a poet," she said.

"I like writing poetry," said Trev. "Though I've never submitted my poems to a publisher. They're not good enough. I'm no good at work. I've never done any."

"Well you don't need to work, do you?" said Kitty.

"Oh no," he said. "I've scads of money. I'm an only child, so I'll inherit everything. Men here do tend to think a fellow should work, though."

"The men here grow up working hard," Kitty said. "It's what they know. Don't be troubled by what they say. Let yourself be a poet."

"So I shall," said Trev. "You make me wonderfully fine, Kitty. I was melancholy before I met you."

"Well, I'm happy I could make you feel better," said Kitty.

"May I take the chair next to yours?" he said. She nodded, smiling. He pushed a chair against hers, and took her hand in both of his. He smelled of spicy eau de cologne and soap. "I never met a woman who owned a saloon," he said. "Have you a past, my dear?"

"When I was younger," said Kitty. "I'm more respectable now."

"But not entirely so?" said Trev.

"Not entirely," Kitty said. "I like to have fun sometimes."

"May I kiss you?" he said.

His eyes were hot and bright, and he looked very young. Kitty touched her hand to the back of his neck, and placed her other hand at the side of his head. He put his arms around her, kissing her gently yet forcefully.

Kitty slid her hand to his face. "Do you want to see my room?" she said softly. Trev opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and nodded. Kitty took his hand and led him upstairs. 

The mild weather made Dodge uncommonly vigorous for summer. Always on the move, afoot under the sun with his bag, or driving his buggy to ranches, farms, and houses outside of town, Doc treated fever 'n ague, near drownings, and stomachache from over-indulgence or food eaten after setting too long in the heat.

Doc grew tired. His bones and muscles hurt, and he daydreamed about fishing off an Arkansas River bank with a picnic basket and a book beside him in the grass. As he had no time to visit the Long Branch, he started carrying a small whiskey bottle in his bag. Doc drank a glass of brandy before breakfast to help him face the day, and two cordials in a long-stemmed wine glass after dinner to help him sleep, calling to mind his younger days, when anything that troubled him overmuch compelled him to get drunk. He admonished himself not to return to the habit, knowing his older body wouldn't hold up long if he did.

The night after Kitty led Trevor Holland upstairs to her room at the Long Branch, Matt walked the streets on his nightly patrol, fretting over what Chester told him. Though the young stranger kissing Kitty's hand didn't bother the marshal much of itself, he knew Kitty would not have shooed Chester out unless she wanted time alone with Holland. Matt resolved to see Kitty that night directly after finishing his rounds. He'd find out what the fellow was about, and if Kitty had taken to him. If so, Matt would do whatever it took to turn her affections wholly back to him, whether that meant riding and picnicking, or giving her some loving.

Matt restrained himself with Kitty on account of the badge, knowing that coming to her would intensify her love. He didn't want her heart buried in his grave if he was killed.

As the marshal neared the end of his patrol, striding with his measured tread to his office by way of Grimmick's livery, he saw Doc sleeping in his buggy in front of the stable. Hitched to the buggy, his horse waited patiently.

"Doc?" Matt touched his shoulder. Doc woke up and jerked in his seat when he saw the marshal. "It's alright, Doc. It's Matt."

 _"Matt,"_ said Doc. "You gave me a fright."

"This isn't the safest place to take a nap at night," said the marshal.

"I must've fallen asleep on the ride home," said Doc. He took his bag, moved clumsily to climb down from the buggy and tripped. _"Tarnation!"_ he yelled, as Matt caught him and steadied him on his feet.

"You drunk?" said Matt.

"I dunno. Didn't plan it that way if I am."

"I'll walk you home," said Matt.

"I'm no lady in need of an escort, thank you," said Doc. He moved off shakily.

Matt pounded on the stable doors, which were opened after a moment by the man Moss hired to sleep the night there and unlock the doors for late arrivals. The man shuffled out drowsy and hatless to see to Doc's horse and buggy, and Matt hurried to catch up to Doc and walk alongside him.

 _"I told you I don't need an escort,"_ Doc shouted.

"What're you drinkin' for, Doc?" said Matt.

"Helps keep me goin'. I didn't set out to get drunk," Doc said.

"You soberin' already?" said the marshal. "Sounds like it."

"I've developed a high tolerance," Doc said. "The bottle and I have a history."

"I remember you used to drink when things went hard for you." said Matt. "That was years ago."

"I'm tuckered, Matt. Never been so weary."

"Why don't you take a vacation, maybe go fishin' a couple weeks," Matt said.

"The way folks are falling ill this summer—almost drowning, young 'uns tumbling out of trees, you name it. This town would never survive," said Doc.

"Everyone needs a rest sometime," the marshal said.

"And when did _you_ last take a break?" Doc said.

"Well," said Matt, "I'm younger than you."

"Oh, go right on ahead. Stick _that_ to me, why don't ya," said Doc. He was getting loud again.

 _"Shhh._ Don't wake folks up," Matt said.

"I don't need you helpin' me up ma durn stairs," said Doc. "You git along to the Long Branch and keep an eye on Kitty before that dandy feller steals her out from under you. No vul _gar_ ity intended." With the marshal close behind him, Doc stopped at the top of the stairs and rocked with suppressed laughter.

Matt opened the door and followed Doc into his office. "How d'you know about Holland?" Matt said.

"How d'you think?" said Doc. "Chester of course. It must be all over Dodge by now."

"You won't drink anymore tonight, Doc?"

"No, I'm goin' straight to bed."

"Alright." Matt headed out the door.

"Matt." The marshal turned. "Thanks," said Doc. "You're a good friend." Doc nodded and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. "A good friend," he repeated.

"Alright, Doc."

Matt knew from Chester's description that the man sitting at the table in the Long Branch with Kitty was Trev Holland, only tonight he wore a powder-blue suit with matching hat. His beer untouched, Chester sat alone at a nearby table and gloomily watched them.

Matt approached Kitty's table and tipped his hat. "Hello, Kitty," he said.

Kitty looked into his eyes and felt the familiar thrill in her chest, the heightened awareness. She wanted to hug him, kiss and talk to him for hours. "Hello, Matt," she said.

"How about a drink at the bar?" said Matt.

"Sure," she said. "Excuse me, Trev."

"Of course, darling," Trev said. He stood and touched his hat brim. "You're the marshal, sir," he said, seeing Matt's badge.

"Matt Dillon," said Matt, thinking how young Holland looked. The marshal figured Trev to be twenty-nine or thirty, though his artless face made him look younger. Chester had said Holland was _"the purtiest feller I ever saw; talks like a storybook."_ Matt knew he couldn't in fairness blame Kitty for going sweet on the fellow. Any woman would.

"Trevor Holland," the stranger said.

"You look a far piece from home, Holland," said Matt. "What's your business in Dodge, you don't mind my askin'."

"I'm a wayfaring poet," Trev said. "I'm exploring the West."

"Mm-hmm," said Matt. "You can set with Chester there a spell; you want some company." Chester heard and gave the marshal a reproachful look.

"I needn't if I'm intruding," Trev said to Chester.

"No bother to me, you wanna set," Chester said reluctantly.

"Do you play at cards?" said Trev, reaching for the deck in the center of the table.

"Some . . . betimes," said Chester.

"Splendid," said Holland, expertly shuffling the cards. "Perhaps we can draw in a full table."

Matt and Kitty leaned on the bar, his arm touching hers.

"About time you showed, Marshal," Sam said, giving Matt a meaningful look. "This place could've come down around our ears."

"We've been peaceful for summertime, Sam," said Kitty.

"Never can tell when we'll need the law," Sam said, putting two beers on the bar.

"You like that fella, do ya?" Matt said to Kitty.

"I can't help but like him," said Kitty. "He's more beautiful than most of the gals workin' for me here."

"Can't argue that," Matt said. "You want him for your man?"

"Only if I can't have you," she said.

Matt drank most of his beer in two swallows. "I had to bust up another fight at the Jenkins place last night," he said. "It's quite a ride from here. Little Fitz raced his cob into town to the office, said his Pa and Ma were killin' each other and I had to come. By the time I got Joe and Ellie calmed, rode back to Dodge and walked my rounds, it was too late to come see you."

"It's more than wanting to see you and talk to you every night," Kitty said.

"We can go on a picnic," said Matt. "I'll make the time."

"I need more than that," said Kitty. "Oh, Matt. I need to love you like a wife loves her husband."

Matt looked at her intently. "I won't make you a young widow," he said. "I can't keep count of the number of men who've threatened to gun me down or hire a gun to do it.

"Kitty." Matt looked at the froth in his beer mug. "Did you . . . you said you needed . . . ." he trailed off.

"You know my past, Matt," she said. "You know me."

"Holland's even younger than his age," said Matt. "You're too mature for him."

"That doesn't matter," Kitty said. "Trev is sweet, and he wants me."

"So is Chester," Matt said, "but you're not spendin' nights with him. Least I don't think you are. Guess I can't know for sure."

Kitty glared up at him, her lips tightening. "Leave Chester out of this, Matt. Shame on you."

Matt put his arms around her and kissed her, long and hard.

"Oh, I say," said Trev, watching Matt and Kitty from the table where he played cards with Chester and two other men. "Is the marshal Miss Kitty's beau?" Trev asked Chester.

"He is," said Chester.

"Oh, I say," Trev repeated. "I've some competition."

"You won't compete against Marshal Dillon if you got a mite a sense under that fancy hat," said one of the men. "He don't fight 'cept when he has to, to enforce the law, but you never can tell when it comes to a woman, 'specially a fine one like Miss Kitty."

"None finer in Kansas," Chester agreed. "You best mind yourself, Trev."

"How frightfully exciting," Trev said. "D'you spose the marshal will challenge me to a duel?" Chester stared vaguely at Holland while the other two men laughed.

Over at the bar, her heart pumping faster, Kitty smoothed her hair into place after Matt's kiss. The marshal watched her anxiously. Her face was flushed, though he couldn't figure her thoughts.

"Well?" said Matt.

"Well, what?" said Kitty.

"Does that make you forget Holland?" Matt said. Kitty laughed. "Durned if I see anything funny about it," said Matt. He drained his beer mug.

Kitty hugged him, resting her face against his arm. "If you say _'Alright, Kitty,'_ and pull away from me, you'll drive me straight into Trevor's arms," she said.

"But I'm still thirsty. I drank my beer," said Matt.

"I love you so much." She rubbed her face against his shirt sleeve. "Just please be with me whenever you can," Kitty said. "And closer, like this."

"Alright," he said. She let go of him and pushed her full beer mug in front of him.

Chester soon tired of the card game. The two men who joined him and Holland said little more than crudities about the saloon gals, and Chester thought Trev one witless feller. A young 'un would have more sense in his head than that dude.

Chester still stung from Miss Kitty treating him like a pesky fly the night before so she could spend time alone with Holland. Though he'd eaten a big dinner, Chester felt a hungry hollowness, only like a hurting. He needed to talk to Miss Kitty, or just be quietly near her, but he knew she and Mr. Dillon wouldn't want that now. Chester tossed his cards to the middle of the table and stood.

"You're not leaving the game, my good fellow?" said Holland.

"Yeah," said Chester, heading for the batwings. He walked without knowing where, as it was too late to visit Doc. Chester wandered to the end of town, and ambled through the prairie grass to the back street of Dodge. There were a few saloons along the street, two houses of ill repute, and a big tent in the grass.

A barefoot woman emerged from the tent, her thick unruly hair hanging loose to her waist. She saw Chester and walked over to him. "Hello, dear," she said.

Chester touched his hat brim and kept moving. "You are alone tonight?" the woman said.

"I know where the houses are if I am," said Chester.

"No," she said. "I'm not one of them, dear. I mean alone like your friends are gone."

Chester stopped near a streetlamp and looked down into her uplifted face. Her hair was light red like a pink rose, framing a smooth milk-white face, with eyes so light blue they looked transparent. The size of most women and no beauty, she was however more pretty than plain. She wore long dangly earbobs and several necklaces, and her cotton dress was sewn in different colors and patches, like a quilt. Chester figured her to be about his age.

"You've never seen a woman like me before, have you," she said. "I'm Mona. What's your name, honey?"

"Chester."

"That's a nice name. I have something over yonder in the tent, make you feel better."

Chester had never been in the tent, but he'd heard tell of it. "I got no money for that," he said.

"Oh," said Mona, stepping back from him. He saw her consider on going back in the tent and leaving him be, so he resumed walking. She appeared beside him after a moment. "I'm alone, too," she said. "Come inside and visit?"

"No place for visitin'," Chester said, "with that stuff a swirlin' in the air."

"You ever tried it?" she said.

"Doc give it to me in medicine many a time," said Chester.

"I mean smokin' it, sweet eyes," said Mona. "It'll make you fly to the stars."

Chester thought she sounded a touch lunatic. "I best get on," he said. "I don't smoke."

"It's not like an everyday pipe or cigar," she said. "You'll like it. It fills the emptiness."

"Like I said, I got no money," Chester said. "Not meanin' to put you off, ma'am, but—"

"I'll give you a pipe anyway," she said. "Oh please, honey. Give a lonesome woman a little company."

Chester looked curiously at the tent. A tendril of smoke curled through its top. Mona put a warm hand in his, led him to the tent, and pulled back the flap.

When Matt returned to his office at 3:02 a.m. by his pocket watch, Chester wasn't there. Not wanting to wake Ma Smalley or the boarders, Matt decided to sleep at the office instead of his room at Ma's. He'd left Kitty's room, knowing she'd want it to herself when she awakened. Matt would sleep in Chester's bed, and if his partner came in before the sun rose, he could sleep in one of the jail cells.

Matt sat on the bed to pull off his boots when the door opened and Chester staggered in, bringing the distinctive sweet odor of smoked opium with him. "Mr. Dillon." Chester smiled vacantly at Matt, dropped his hat on the floor, sat on the bed next to the marshal, and struggled to take off his boots.

"You been to that opium tent on the back street," said Matt, trying not to grin.

"Jest thought I'd try a little," Chester said, drawling his words out more than usual. "Seein' as I never smoked it afore. It made me a mite happy. Took away the lonesomeness."

"You didn't say anything before about bein' lonesome," said Matt.

"Ain't nothin'." Chester waved his hand in an exaggerated gesture. "It's always there a little, only sometimes it gets a bit much." The corners of his mouth turned down as he nodded seriously at Matt, then uttered an oath as he yanked at his boot.

"Let me give you a hand there," said Matt. He pulled Chester's boots off. "Go to that tent again, I'll tell Doc," Matt said. "That stuff's bad for you."

"Doc ain't one to preach," said Chester. "I seen 'im slip an extra whiskey bottle in his bag t'other mornin' when he thought I weren't lookin'. He already had the one in there he carries for the sick and injured."

Matt let that pass. "You get too lonesome again, Kitty and I'll make the time. We'll go fishin'."

"Well. That does warm a body right here." Chester thumped his chest. "I do like talkin' to Miss Kitty. Only she chased me away last night to favor that Holland feller. Wouldn't talk to me tonight, neither. Her eyes are all on him."

"Not any more if I can help it," said Matt. He patted Chester's shoulder. "I'll sleep in the jail," the marshal said.

 _"No, Mr. Dillon._ Forevermore, United States marshal can't sleep in no jail. You take the bed here," Chester said. "I'll sleep in the cell."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Trevor Holland spent most days at the Long Branch, giving Kitty as much attention as she'd allow. He showed her more affection than Matt did. She let Trev kiss her and put his arm around her as she sat at a table or stood at the bar.

He played cards and kept his distance from her when the marshal came to the Long Branch at night. Trev was kissing the back of Kitty's neck as she folded napkins at the bar one afternoon, his hands encircling her waist, when Matt walked through the batwings and saw him. Matt strode to them, grabbed Holland's shoulder, pulled him away from Kitty, and shoved him.

"I mean no harm . . . Marshal," Trev said breathlessly. "Kitty's beauty makes me forget myself. You _supposedly_ are her man, though your heart clearly has no grande passion as mine has. You are a rather pallid man with women, are you not, sir."

Matt sucked in his lower lip and stepped closer to Holland, who backed off and ran out of the Long Branch. The marshal and Kitty heard Trev's boots thudding the boards as he raced down the walk. Kitty snickered, trying not to laugh aloud.

"This is all very funny to you," said Matt. "It won't be funny when I smack that fella a hard one."

"Oh, Matt," Kitty said. "Trev's like a boy. You don't wanna hurt him."

"No, I don't. But he gets my dander up so I can't help thinkin' about it.

"And it's not just me, Kitty," Matt went on. "You're not passin' enough time with Chester."

"Chester knows he can come see me any time he wants to," said Kitty.

"He thinks you don't want him around on account of Holland," said Matt. "Chester went in that opium tent on the back street the other night. He said it made him feel less lonesome."

"Well, tell him to stay out of there," said Kitty. "That stuff's bad for him."

"That's what I said, and I threatened to tell Doc, but I don't know if Chester'll listen to me. He needs you to talk to 'im more," said Matt.

"Well, sure," said Kitty. "You know I love Chester. Send 'im on over."

"Alright," said Matt. He paused by the batwings. "Kitty? You mean talkin' and havin' a beer, right? With Chester?"

Kitty sighed. "Matt, Trev's courting me has made you so jealous you're not thinking straight. This is between you and me and Trev. Leave Chester out of it."

"Alright," said Matt. "I just asked to make it a surety to myself. I already knew the answer." 

Doc had yet to eat breakfast when the widow Charlotte Taylor climbed the stairs to his office. Little Susan Taylor had the fever. Doc wished he'd refrained from drinking two glasses of brandy that morning.

Mrs. Taylor kept a seamstress shop in Dodge, and lived with her eight-year-old daughter on the second floor. Doc concentrated on clearing his mind and walking steadily with Mrs. Taylor to the shop, and up the short staircase to Susan's room.

The little girl's sickness looked like a mild case of summer fever, not the ague, which was more serious. Doc fed Susan a teaspoon of tonic, gave the bottle to Mrs. Taylor, and told her to sponge her daughter with cool water and keep her out of the sun. "Make sure she stays abed 'til the fever's gone, Charlotte," Doc said. "No running around. And no spicy or heavy foods. Give her porridge with milk, light stews, things like that."

"Let me fetch you some lemonade before you leave, Doc," said the mother. Doc took the sponge from the small table by Susan's bed, dipped it in a bowl of water in which ice chips floated, and sponged Susan's face, neck and head.

The child giggled. "This tickle, does it?" said Doc.

"No," said little Susan. "I know, Doc. I know you had whiskey this morning. Your breath." She giggled again at the look on Doc's face. "Don't worry," she said. "I won't tell Mama. I don't think she noticed. You smell like the bottles Mama pours from to make her fruitcakes at Christmastime."

Doc stifled a fool notion to tell her he'd drunk brandy, not whiskey. "You're right; I've been bad," he said. "I won't drink it anymore. You won't tell on me?" Susan shook her head. "There's a good girl." Doc touched his hand to her face. "You stay in bed now and mind your Ma."

Back at his office, Doc poured his brandy and wine cordial down the sink. When his most ailing patients were sufficiently mended to get on without his attendance, he'd travel to spend a week at a fishing hole, and take Chester with him if Matt didn't need his partner. 

Chester wanted nothing more to do with opium pipes or the woman who owned the tent. Mona had spooked him; he thought her a whit unsound in her head, and the smoke had made him not himself. Not one to take much solace in what he could drink or smoke, he sought strength from fine women to whom he took a liking, as he looked for the light of streetlamps on a moonless and starless night.

So when Matt told Chester that Kitty wanted to see him to pass the time, he could hardly get to the Long Branch fast enough. She sat playing solitaire, alone in the saloon when he came in. "Miss Kitty." Chester moved to her and tipped his hat.

"Oh, there you are, Chester," she said, glancing up at him. "Draw yourself a beer and come keep me company. Sam won't be in for awhile."

Chester drew a beer, pulled a chair close beside hers and sat quietly, content to be near her.

"You're awful quiet," she said presently. "You feelin' alright?"

"Oh . . . I'm fine, Miss Kitty. I'm happy to be here with you without that Trev feller around," said Chester.

Kitty put her cards down and looked at him. She cared for him incomparably more than Holland, and pondered how to make Chester understand while not confusing him. He waited patiently for her to say what she had to say.

"Chester . . . . " she said. He looked at her expectantly. "You know I like you a lot more than Trev, don't you?" said Kitty.

"You let him kiss you and all," said Chester.

"Well . . . yes," said Kitty, "but I don't love him. I'm in love with Matt. And I love you. Know what I'm sayin'?"

"Reckon." Chester picked up a stack from her solitaire game and dropped it in his beer.

"Chester, my cards," Kitty said.

"Oh, I apologize, Miss Kitty. I didn't think on what I was doin'."

"You do understand how it is, don't you?" said Kitty.

"I understand 'bout you and Mr. Dillon. But I think you like that Trev more'n me," Chester said. "Don't see how Mr. Dillon can hold back hittin' 'im , for all you let 'im kiss you." Chester pulled the cards out of his beer and started tearing them apart. "You never let me kiss you," he said. "Never once."

Kitty sighed, pulled the wet pieces out of his hands, then pecked him quickly on the mouth just as Doc walked in and saw them. Chester blinked at her. "There," she said.

"Kitty. Chester," said Doc. "I guess what Matt don't know won't hurt 'im."

"Doc," said Kitty. "Get yourself a beer. Sam's out."

"No thanks," said Doc. "Need to abstain a spell for my health."

"You give me no chance to kiss back, Miss Kitty," said Chester.

"Well," Kitty said. "Go ahead."

"A body sure can miss a lot bein' away from this place any length of time," said Doc. "I assume Matt knows about you two?"

"I can't," said Chester. "Not with Doc watchin'."

"Pour yourself a cup of coffee, Doc," Kitty said. "There's some hot."

"I'd rather watch," said Doc.

"Oh, never mind," said Chester. "The feel of it's off. Tain't right nohow. Mr. Dillon wouldn't like it."

"I suppose not," said Kitty.

"Since you won't be courtin' Kitty, maybe you'll come fishin' a week with me, Chester," Doc said. "Matt says it's alright. I just have to keep an eye on some sick folks a few days before I leave."

"I'll come with you, Doc," said Chester. "I need to get away."

"I hope not on account of me," Kitty said.

"Oh, no," said Chester. "Don't you think it, Miss Kitty. Will be nice not to see that Trev feller, though."

Kitty noticed a change in Trev. He didn't smile as much, and he'd stopped playing cards. After Matt scared him off that one day, he came to the Long Branch only at night, sat at a table by himself, and gazed wistfully at Kitty. When Matt was with her, Holland watched them sulkily, and he drank more. Mainly whiskey.

"There's gonna be trouble with that fella," Matt said. He stood at the bar beside Kitty, with Chester at her other side.

"It's my fault," Kitty said. "He was smiling and easy when he introduced himself to me. Try not to hurt him, Matt."

"When did he start wearin' a gun?" said Matt.

"I don't know," said Kitty. "He didn't have one on when he first came here."

"He asked if you'd challenge him to a duel, Mr. Dillon," Chester said. "He said the very words when we was playin' cards awhile back."

"Wouldn't be a fair fight," Matt said. "A dude like that knows nothing about gunplay. And he hasn't got good sense either." The marshal looked across the room at Holland's brooding dark eyes looking back at him.

"Maybe if I talk to him," said Kitty.

"No," Matt said.

"Why not?"

"I don't want you near him," said Matt.

"Matt, this isn't the time for that. We're talking about his life."

"Alright, Kitty." Matt drank a big swallow of beer.

Kitty walked to Holland's table. "Hello, Trev," she said.

"Darling," Holland said softly. "You've come to me." He reached out his hands to her, and Kitty put her hands in his.

"Can I get you anything?" she said.

"Only yourself."

Kitty pulled her hands away, and sat next to him at the table. "I hope you're not thinking about a gunfight with Matt," she said.

"I love you more every day," said Holland. "He's keeping you from me."

"Matt wouldn't try to stop me from being with you if that's what I wanted," Kitty said. "I choose to be with him."

"So I see," Trev said. "And my heart is broken."

"You see how it is, then," said Kitty. "You won't fight Matt?"

Holland moved his chair close to hers, put his arms around her and kissed her fervently. Kitty's inclination was to respond in kind. His kisses evoked the same quickened heartbeat, and feeling of being doused with warm water as Matt's kisses, except she sensed in Trev a gentle desperation, a giving to her of his whole self that Matt lacked. Kitty knew that if she yielded, she'd return Trev's kiss with fierce comforting and affection she'd never shown the marshal. Not wanting to hurt and anger Matt, Kitty resisted Trev's kiss, pushing against his shoulders as Matt watched.

Trev held her tightly. "Please don't fight it, darling," he murmured into her neck. "I can feel your love."

"Trev, _no_ ," said Kitty, trying to escape his arms.

Matt moved toward them.

"Matt, _no,_ " said Kitty, shaking her head at the marshal.

Seeing Matt coming, Trev released Kitty and jumped up. Matt backhanded Holland harder than intended, knocking him down. Trev sprang up, his hand hovering over his gun butt, and the marshal braced himself.

 _"No,"_ Kitty said, moving between them.

"Move out of the way, Kitty," said Matt.

"No."

"Chester," Matt said, his eyes fixed on Holland. Chester hurried to Kitty and walked her to the bar. She tried pulling away from him, but her effort was useless. When they reached the bar, he went to put his arm around her, and she pushed him away.

"Don't do it, Holland," said Matt. "Your gun won't clear the holster."

"I want to die," Trev said dramatically, "but I don't want to shoot you. I've never shot anyone. Suppose my bullet hits you as I go down?"

"See?" said Matt. "You don't want to do this."

"Then I will fight you instead," said Trev. "If you win, I'll leave Kitty alone and leave Dodge. If I win, sir, we continue the conquest for her love."

Matt knew Holland would fight him until one of them was unconscious, and that one wouldn't be the marshal. He'd inflict the least damage if he knocked the other man out with one blow. "You're a fool, Holland," said Matt.

"Then you agree to a match," said Trev.

"I'm not stoppin' you."

Trev hesitated. Matt could see he was no fighter. Holland heaved a sigh, squared his shoulders, and swung at Matt. Matt blocked the blow with his forearm, and struck Trev. The marshal found putting force behind the blow surprisingly hard. He'd killed men with more ease than it took to strike Holland. Trev fell over backward and lay still, his eyes closed. Kitty ran to him, Chester following at a slower pace.

"I tried to hit just hard enough to put him out," Matt said. "It was the best way."

Kitty smoothed back Holland's hair. After a moment, he opened his eyes and gave her a weak smile. "Can you get up?" she said.

"Kiss me once more, my love," said Trev, "and I'll find the strength to rise."

 _"Bravo,"_ said a cowpuncher at the bar, raising his beer. "This be better than a Dodge Varieties melodrama."

Kitty gave Trev a light kiss, and he tried to stand. Figuring Holland wanted to get up on his own, after a moment Matt tired of watching him thresh around on the floor, and decided to give him a fast hand up before he could object. The marshal swiftly lifted Trev under the arms and sat him in a chair.

"Bring him a whiskey, will you, Sam?" Kitty called to the barkeep.

"It's been glorious, my love," Trev said to Kitty. "Notwithstanding, now that I've lost the quest for your hand, I must depart forthwith on the next train out of Dodge."

"Where will you go, Trev?" Kitty said.

Trev emptied his whiskey glass. "Wherever there are beautiful women such as yourself," he said. "San Francisco, perhaps."  
 _  
_

"What're you waitin' on, Chester?" said Doc. "We're set to go." Doc sat in his buggy out front of the marshal's office, and Chester stood beside his horse at the hitching rail. Matt was there to see them off.

"Miss Kitty," said Chester. "She said she'd come say goodbye."

"It's getting hotter," said Doc. "We don't leave now, the sun will be high before we reach Mulberry Creek."

"You're not gonna wait all day, are ya?" said Matt.

"I can't leave 'til I know," said Chester.

"What're you talkin' about, Chester?" Doc said irritably.

"There's Miss Kitty," said Chester.

"Good morning," said Kitty.

Chester took off his hat and held it in both hands. "You forgive me, don't you, Miss Kitty?" he said.

"Forgive you for what?" said Kitty.

"Makin' you walk to the bar last night when Mr. Dillon faced down that Trev," said Chester. "I thought I had to, so you wouldn't come to no harm. I knew that's what Mr. Dillon wanted too when he said my name, didn't you, Mr. Dillon?"

"Well, sure," said Matt. "You did the right thing, Chester."

"I never did lay a finger on you thataway afore, Miss Kitty," said Chester. "You know I never did."

"It's alright, Chester," said Kitty. "You and Matt were protecting me."

"Then you're not mad at me no more?"

"Was I mad at you?" she said.

"You pushed me when I tried to give you comfort last night at the bar," Chester said.

"I did, didn't I?" said Kitty. He nodded. "Oh, Chester, don't worry," she said. "I was afraid Matt would have to kill Trev. I'm not mad at you."

"Oh." Chester smiled in relief.

 _"Now_ can we set out?" said Doc.

Chester mounted his horse and waved to Matt and Kitty; Doc chirruped to his horse hitched to the buggy, and they set off at a canter.

"It's already quiet without them," Kitty said.

Matt smiled at her. "Just us now for a week, Kitty," he said.

"It is, isn't it?" she said. She moved close to Matt and put her arm around his waist, smiling up at him. "We need more time together, Matt," Kitty said. So I won't be tempted by any more Trevor Hollands."

Matt kissed her. "Come on," he said, his arm strong around her shoulders. "Doc and Chester aren't the only ones who can take a break."

Every care on Kitty's mind faded away. She felt light as air, free as the butterfly before them fluttering on the breeze. "Where are we going, Matt?"

Matt kissed her again as they walked. "We'll know when we get there," he said.


End file.
